


camera flashes make it look like a dream

by nymeriahale



Category: Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF
Genre: Coming Out, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-23 19:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymeriahale/pseuds/nymeriahale
Summary: Owen smiles up at the long shot of him and George projected onto the big screen at Twickenham - with their arms wrapped around each other, pressed close, they look like nothing more than the couple they are.





	camera flashes make it look like a dream

**Author's Note:**

> aka post 2019 Six Nations self indulgent coming out fic!
> 
> title from The Lucky One by Taylor Swift

Owen punches the air as the whistle blows, signalling the end to their match against Scotland and sealing their Championship victory. He wraps the nearest white shirt to him up in a hug, uncaring of who it is, grinning as more and more bodies bump into them, join onto them. Someone starts jumping, as someone always does, and then they’re all jumping, yelling, a joyous mass.

Owen laughs when he finally breaks out, half happiness, half relief. It’s been a rough ride, his captaincy, but he really feels his team are truly on the up now, coming into form at just the right time. This match against Scotland had been important, not for the tournament, but for the lads themselves, determined to make reparations for last year. They’d more than done that.

He’s barely managed to shake hands with half the lads on the pitch before he’s being pulled aside for a TV interviews. He stamps down on a twinge of annoyance, looking three people forwards to George - he’d almost made it to the celebration he’d been looking forward to most. George glances up, catches Owen’s eye just as he’s turning away. Owen bites his lip at the heated anticipation in George’s gaze, not bothering to suppress a smirk as he sees George’s eyes fall to the movement. It’ll keep. 

The smile falls from his face as he reaches the interview, inclining his head politely and glad when he’s asked a question after only a couple of seconds of waiting - he hates being held, never knows what to do with himself.

“So, Owen Farrell, England captain,” Lee McKenzie begins. “You must be pretty happy with that performance from your team?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Owen confirms. “We didn’t play so well against Scotland last year, so I guess there was a bit of fire in the match, for us, even more than usual. I think we did ourselves proud.”

“You certainly did,” Lee agrees. “Though we saw a little less fire from you personally than last year,” she says slyly. “Not quite so contentious.”

It takes Owen a moment to realise that she’s referencing the incident in the tunnel with Ryan Wilson. “I guess,” he accepts, giving her a sheepish smile. He looks over her shoulder at where George is being bundled over - presumably next in line for interview given his man of the match performance. “So far,” he adds, grinning at George.

George can’t possibly have heard him through the din, but he rolls his eyes and shakes his head all the same. He’s seen Owen up to mischief far too many times to miss the look in his eye, and they’re both involved in this particular game.

Lee’s eyebrows shoot up, and she glances over her shoulder to see who Owen is looking at. “Well,” she begins, then seems to realise she doesn’t know where to begin that line of questioning, changes track. “Going on to the tournament more generally - a big step up from last year, from fifth to champions with a game to spare. I imagine the same holds true there, a performance to be proud of?”

Owen half grimaces. “Yeah, pretty much,” he agrees. “We had some bad phases, I think - there’s always going to be things to work on, and discipline was one for us from the start, but the lads worked hard on that and I think we progressed well. Attack was brilliant this match in particular, lot of good work by the forwards getting over the gain line consistently, again it’s something we’ve really worked on.”

“And how has the overall experience been for you at your first Six Nations captaining England?” Lee asks - the open question Owen has been waiting for.

He looks beyond Lee again and winks at George - now close enough to hear - relieved when he gets a grin and a double thumbs up in response. They’re on. 

“Yeah, it’s been great,” he says, flicking a quick glance at the camera before looking back to Lee. “I’ve had brilliant support from the lads, as I said they’ve all worked so hard together, and I’ve had a lot of support in leadership from the other players - the senior guys in particular, but there’s a lot of younger lads stepping up too. I particularly want to thank my boyfriend,” he says deliberately, enjoying the way her eyes widen and her jaw actually drops, just a little. Owen flicks another glance straight down the lens of the camera, allows himself a small smirk before going on. “He’s been brilliant in supporting me through every turn of this tournament, every day from the start of training - even beyond that, for years now, he’s supported me and allowed me to do more than I otherwise could. This tournament is just another example of that. With support like that, being captain is easy,” he smiles at Lee as he summarises - friendly, bland. Like nothing much in particular has happened.

Owen doesn’t even need to look beyond her to see George grinning. George’s face would have softened in fondness as Owen talked, he’d bet - they’re neither of them as good as they should be at telling each other things like that - but by the time Owen splits awareness to his peripheral vision George is sporting a full on grin. He looks happy, excited - all emotions that could be attributed to them match, probably partially should be. But Owen knows that’s not all it is - there’s an edge of glee that only comes with mischief, rarely seen on George’s face, shining through to mark the difference. Owen considers calling George in, ultimately decides to let him have his own fun.

“Well, that must be some support,” Lee manages. Full credit to her, she seems to be recovering quickly.

Owen just nods, maintaining that bland, uninteresting smile. Trying not to crack into laughter - he’s _out_ , he’s _free_ , nothing more to worry about hiding or tiptoeing around. He can take George out on a date in public now, if they like - well, maybe not quite now, but still. There’s so much to be happy about.

“And we have some of that support here now in the form of your Man of the Match, George Ford,” Lee says, clearly deciding to move on - and in doing so setting things up better than Owen could ever have hoped for.

George steps into shot, next to Owen, giving him a look like he can’t quite believe it either.

“We’ll get on to your performance in a moment George, but for now - how would you describe Owen’s leadership this tournament? It seems from the outside to be quite inspiring.”

“Yeah, inspiring would be fair,” George agrees. “Look, he tries to send a lot of it back on us, but he’s driving standards every day, in training and on the pitch. He’s the guy you look to when you need a push, a reminder to step up and increase your intensity - because he’ll already be doing it. When you’ve got someone like him as captain it’s easy to follow, easy to give all the support you can.”

“Would you say you’re part of the support Owen mentioned then? Eddie Jones has made you co-captain on several occasions now - your fellow co-captain has been without match play recently, but you seem to have stuck around.” Lee can’t possibly know what she’s just done, but she knows enough to frown when Owen chokes on a laugh, cutting it off as quick as he can so he can hear George’s full response.

“Well, I hope I’m part of it - I hope he hasn’t been hiding another boyfriend away!” George exclaims, grinning, eyes sparkling as he wraps an arm around Owen’s waist. He flicks a quick look at the camera, same as Owen had, the edge of his grin sharpening slightly as he gives Owen a brief squeeze. The edge of smugness abates as he glances back up at Owen, returning to mischief. 

Owen smiles helplessly back, leans in for a brief kiss. “Nah, you’re the only one for me,” he tells George - tells the country, the world.

George’s smile softens, and they share a moment before looking back to Lee.

Owen focusses on returning to that bland, innocent smile from earlier - focuses on anything but how lost Lee looks, still gamely holding the microphone in place. She takes the microphone back as she seems to realise that George isn’t going to give a more full answer - Owen himself has forgotten the question, thinks George might have too, just seen the opportunity it provided.

“Well - how about that match, then?” Lee asks, wincing slightly as she raises a hand to her earpiece - Owen can barely imagine what’s happening on the other end of that. “You seemed to get a read on Scotland right from the start, and an incredible display of kicking while Owen was off with the HIA - tell us about it from your perspective.”

“Yeah, well obviously I was mostly just happy to know Owen was okay,” George says frankly. “But I was glad to be able to step up and kick like that for the boys when the call came. We’d prepared well for the match, I think, that helped us get a read on things - but our forwards came out firing, that’s what really made a difference.”

“Now who’s downplaying their input?” Owen asks, leaning in to George to be picked up on the mic. It also puts him in kissing range of George yet again and he gives in to the affection firing through his veins, kisses him on the temple.

It’s a move greeted by a roar of sound, and Owen glances up to see himself and George on the big screen, the stadium coverage team having presumably caught on. He smiles up at the long shot of the two of them - with their arms wrapped around each other, pressed close, they look like nothing more than the couple they are.

When he looks back to Lee she’s wincing once again, pressing her fingers to her earpiece. “And that’s the Twickenham crowd reaction you can apparently hear - you boys have surprised a lot of people out here today.”

It’s not a question, really, and Owen flounders for how to answer it.

“They’ve not seen anything yet,” George steps in, smirking, and Owen couldn’t contain his anticipatory answering grin if he tried. 

As he tries to come up with words another wave of sound flows over them, exponentially louder than the last, and he looks up to see himself and George parting from their earlier kiss on the big screen, gazing into each other’s eyes.

Owen pulls a face. “We’ll get such a ribbing for that,” he says, shaking his head.

“It looks worse in slow mo,” George tries.

Owen just shoots him a look - skeptical this time. Whether it did or not, that’s unlikely to make a difference to the team. Any expression of romantic affection, by any member of the squad, is to be mocked. There’s no way they’ll get away with this. Unless Owen declaring George the only one for him live on international TV hits the same unspoken exception rule as a proposal, which doesn’t seem too unreasonable to Owen.

“England: Six Nations champions. That must feel sweet after last year - how do you feel this victory sets you up for the World Cup? It must be an encouraging sign?” Lee asks - Owen is impressed by her dedication to keeping the interview on topic.

“Oh, for sure,” George agrees. “It’s a bit early for it to be anything other than that though - there are still aspects of our game to improve on; we got a bit sloppy with discipline towards the end of the first half, still. But for now obviously there’s the rest of the Premiership season with our clubs to focus on, that’s the priority for the next few months. After that we’ll look at what we can do to build for the World Cup.”

“What he said,” Owen just shrugs when Lee angles the microphone to him. “It’s still a bit soon to be thinking of all that - some of us have got titles to defend,” he smirks at George.

“You have for now,” George points out, teasing right back. And apparently the two of them smiling at each other is now enough to get the stadium cheering, as the wall of sound rises again.

“Enjoy your celebrations,” Lee waves them off, apparently giving up. She barely remembers to present George with his Man of the Match medal and champagne. Owen has a funny feeling she might be glad to see the back of that interview, and an equally strong suspicion that they’ll all be seeing a lot of it for a while to come. 

That’s something Owen had expected, something he doesn’t really mind - but he doesn’t want the front page image to be him and George staring into each other’s eyes. There’s no way he could deal with the amount of teasing that would bring back at Saracens. Lee stepping away has opened them up to the wall of cameras, and an opportunity to change that. Owen tugs lightly on George's man of the match medal as George goes to step away.

George meets his eyes, gaze inquisitive, and follows Owen’s look to the hoard of photographers. Owen raises his eyebrows when George looks back to him - George just grins. He doesn't wait for Owen to make the move, instead gets a hand on the back of Owen’s neck and pulls him in for a proper celebratory kiss.

It's relatively chaste - no one looks good sticking their tongue down someone else's throat - but still heartfelt. Owen raises the hand still entangled in George's medal to cup his face, drawing him in closer. They part after a long moment and turn by unspoken agreement away from the cameras, back to their team. They’ve done what they wanted, in more ways than one - now it’s time to celebrate.

When Owen returns to Saracens it’s to one photo plastered across the walls of the changing rooms. It’s the same photo that had covered the front pages, that had been spread around the world, that has yet to fail to make Owen smile. It’s him and George, mid kiss, the man of the match medal glinting on George's jawline. It’s the two of them celebrating their team’s success and their own new freedom. Saracens’ attempt at teasing fails miserably - there’s nothing in the world Owen could be happier to see.

**Author's Note:**

> Good morning from the Wimbledon Queue! This is the last of things I'll be uploading before we're (hopefully) back on normal update schedule, and actually my favourite(/the most self indulgent!) - so I particularly hope you enjoyed it! As always I can be found on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/nymeriahale) and my new(ish) [rugby tumblr](fordfarrell.tumblr.com) and would really love to hear from you either there or in comments!
> 
> (Unless it's to ask what arrangements of TV rights means Lee McKenzie is interviewing Owen and George. I know it doesn't work, I just wanted an interviewer I knew!)


End file.
